I Want To Go Home
by Ultracape
Summary: Trust fate and Christmas Eve to come rescue Harm from the desperate lonlienss he feels.


I Want To Go Home

By Ultracape

AN: A very teeny, tiny crossover. Harm and Mac are married but still in the military and have been able to make a life together despite the directions their careers have taken them. They have a son. Please read the note at the bottom.

None of these characters are mine and I don't have any money and have even less since I should have been spending this time working instead of taking them out to play for a while.

Christmas Eve, 2009

Vietnam Memorial

Washington, D.C.

It was not supposed to rain on Christmas Eve.

Her plane would be late even after switching to an earlier flight.

He had only arrived yesterday and had spent most of the time between last minute meetings attempting to make a hotel suite look homey and warm with what Christmas decorations and presents he could get for his far flung family, Mac, Mattie, Matthew, Sergei, Arrina , his mother and Frank, her Uncle Matt (a surprise for his wife) but none of whom were here now. None would be there for him, with him until the next day. He missed his family more than he could bear.

Somehow, with everyone at the far corners of the earth, fate had opened up a last minute window of opportunity for them all to be together in the same city for three short days before duties, jobs and commitments dragged them away from each other again.

His earlier activities, excitement and anticipation had used up his adrenalin high hours ago and he was now on a morose low.

He was shivering with cold as the water dripped down under the collar of his regulation coat. He didn't like the cold rain and the developing eerie fog. It always reminded him of those hours when he thought he'd lose her and his life and he was completely alone. While at one time he craved his privacy, his space, he had come to hate and dread being alone, especially on a rainy, foggy, cold night in a city where he was now a stranger.

The long dark stone wall loomed ahead as he crossed the street from the Lincoln Memorial. Coming around to the descending ramp, even those few who had wandered out to light a candle by a beloved or fondly remembered carved name were becoming frustrated and drenched as the cold drizzle sputtered out the flames. Coming to the well remembered spot, he reached out and touched the name of the man who had left both he and his mother forty years ago to fight a war and on this night to disappear forever, leaving them alone. "Merry Christmas, Dad."

"Merry Christmas, son."

Harm startled and nearly jumped but did not look around. He'd spoken to his father in his thoughts, dreams, and hallucinations and even through the cruelty of torture and torment. He remembered his father's voice, strong, confident, and loving and this was not it, so he shook off the faint fear, the impossible hope with the reassuring and certain mournful knowledge his father died a long time ago. It was just some stranger near him, talking to someone else who'd been lost.

The hand placed on his shoulder terrified him at that moment as he quickly turned, ready to face the intruder into his space, to help, or to do battle or to run, whichever best. Shock was inadequate to what he felt.

"Harm, I know it must be hard to believe. I find it almost impossible to believe myself," said the voice, filled with tears, regrets, long suffering and age. "Please, son, I'm really here."

It was for good reason he did not trust his eyes or his feelings, having been subjected to the tricks and the vengeance of captors and psychopaths and yet for all the reasons he had for fear of this new threat to his life and sanity, he only took one step back from the man, as tall as him but for a slight hunched stoop.

The face was his, but much older, grayer, thinner and much worn. The man's steel gray hair was slightly long under a faded fedora which topped the clothing which resembled what he had seen in that picture sent him by another person who wanted him dead years ago.

However the eyes, the eyes which were gray, green or blue, depending on the light and his emotions, the eyes could not be imitated or faked. They were those of the man who was his father.

"Captain Harmon Rabb, Jr. Meet Lieutenant Harmon Rabb, Sr. It's really him, Harm." He swiftly turned his head at the sound of Clayton Webb's voice. The shorter man, dressed in his usual sartorial splendor stepped, unfazed out of the misty fog. Harm only starred at him torn between his long held anger at the spook and confusion at the mix of emotions he was feeling now.

"It comes down to politics and fear. Seems Hanoi, Beijing and Moscow aren't any happier with Pyongyang's nuclear threats than we are and struck an under the table bargain for our help through Russia. Long story short, you have a thank you note to write to retired Admiral Thomas Sullivan Magnum and his daughter Lily. It's a culmination of the admiral's life's work to find and negotiate the return of the bodies of our missing forces as well as those who were still alive. Near the bottom of the latter short list was the name Lt. Harmon Rabb, Sr."

The strength of his own anger startled him. "It can't be." Anger at the lies and deception, anger at the lost years, anger at this man claiming to be his father, anger that he had been thought dead, anger that he was really alive, anger that he had been deceived, anger that he had never really found the truth.

He turned back to the older man. "You can't be alive. He's dead, buried someplace in the Tiaga." Despite his rage, desperate tears of relief and hope flooded Harm's eyes.

"No," a hacking cough halting the older man's protest. He began again with a slight wheeze. "I was still alive but Pitchka's brother felt it too dangerous for me to stay with them any longer and he was right. He tried to hide me while I recuperated but I was soon found and returned to prison where I've remained until a week ago."

Now the tears were streaming down Harm's face as he tried to fight the growing belief that the man standing before him actually was his father.

The story was so simple, so plausible. There was no complicated plot, no urgency, no secrets, no need to know. Just a simple deal, we'll join forces with you against a common threat if you stop lying to us and return our people.

"Harm, they only arrived in San Francisco a couple of days ago to receive any needed medical treatment, be debriefed, processed and have their families found and contacted. Lieutenant's Rabb's name hit my desk because they were having trouble contacting you and your mother while you were both in transit."

"We've all been traveling, burning up the cell phones, trying to get everyone together for the holiday here," Harm's voice choked on his tears as he looked again into Harmon's eyes.

"I knew if you were in Washington, you'd be here and so I thought…"

"Please son, I've waited a very long time to come home."

"Dad," Harm stumbled towards his father. Both men embraced, both failing to hide their tears.

"Merry Christmas," Clay said as he left the reunited family.

"Thank you," called out Rabb, Sr.

"No sir, thank you."

AN: I've been watching my Magnum,P.I. DVDs and one of the episodes struck me very strongly as depicting the true soul of the character and I imagined that when he returned to the Navy, this is what he would do as well as his daughter. Besides, it's a really rainy, drizzly, foggy day, too late for Memorial Day or Labor Day, too early for Christmas, but exactly the anniversary of September 11.

AN: I always thought that the true ending of the series should have been the reuniting of Harm with his father, far fetched as that might be (but we're talking about the creator of Quantum Leap here) or Harm, having honorably served his country, leaving the military, and flying, to help raise his own son or no longer following in his father's footsteps.


End file.
